" CHAPTER V. ” The ants seemed to salute in attention. I have been waiting a long time for a family like them. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. The place, in which they stood, was a small entrance-chamber, cut off, like the segment of a circle, from the main apartment, (of which it is needless to say it originally constituted a portion,) by a stout wooden partition. “I supposed that he took off his hat to you. My poor son despairs of me, for I have primed every member of the family to bring me the latest novels whenever they choose to visit. Which is also puzzling. He drew out the check and the editorial letter.
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